Man's Best Friend
by JForward
Summary: Post AoU fic. Steve and the team search for a way to help Pietro deal with his recovery.
1. Chapter 1

Steve had noticed that Pietro wasn't doing so well. He'd been out of recovery about a month, and all of the Avengers had seen that things weren't going how they should've been. The first few weeks he'd spent in a coma, induced, while they used the little ark tech left from Ultron's attack to encourage the wounds to heal. If it hadn't been for his incredibly fast metabolsim and healing factor, Pietro wouldn't've survived at all.

But at first, it had gone ... well, terribly. Panic attacks, the constant need to keep him drugged up to the eyeballs so he wouldn't rip himself apart by accident. They got to the point of calling Wanda in just so that he could be awake without bleeding all over the place. When they finally decided he was healed enough to leave the ICU - assisted by his constant pestering - Pietro was still on lockdown in the tower itself.

Of course, the tower wasn't much better than the ICU. It was Tony who'd made the offer, of course - their home was evaporated, and it was meant to be where the Avengers lived. Pietro wasn't officially part of the team yet, as he was meant to be recovering, but Wanda was, and Tony wasn't an asshole. He wasn't gonna kick the kid out on his ass - they weren't short of rooms.

Of course the place was luxurious. Tech out the ass; the best of everything. The problem was that Pietro didn't know how to _use_ it. His room might've had an incorporated TV and sound system, as well as books, but he'd never even seen a hidden TV screen. Sokovia wasn't exactly a rich country, and he'd lived with Wanda very hand-to-mouth until Strucker had taken them in. Which hadn't been an exactly bountiful place to live, either.

When the Avengers gathered in the tower, normally in the evening or nights, then it was a nice time. There were staff members moving through too, and Tony was there a lot, but mostly in his engineering labs. Pietro found himself alone, most of the time. And when the evening came and everyone was in high spirits, he smiled and laughed and joked along with them, enjoyed the jokes and the way they responded to him and Wanda trying things they'd never had before - but he still felt like he was seperate. Even Wanda was part of them, far more distant than she'd ever been. Maybe dying had broken that connection, that inherent part of what made them twins.

Pietro didn't notice Steve watching him. Didn't know that Steve realised when the eyes were off him, Pietro's features fell. It had been Steve who was there when he'd first woken up, tied down and screaming in pain. It was Steve who'd brought Wanda in to soothe his mind and let him get some real rest for once. But Pietro just didn't realise, sitting on the sofa that had sort of been claimed as 'his'. There was even a blanket on the back of it, for when he got too cold. Because sleep still wasn't easy, even now he was out of the ICU.

Who knew what happened in the day? But twice Pietro was pulled in to medical when passing staff members caught him almost passed out on the floor, blood having soaked through his bandages. Despite the strict orders not to run, to move _carefully_ , it was clear Pietro was struggling to stick to it. But the merest whisper of the ICU near him was almost enough to push the speedster into another panic attack. There weren't enough people around to assign him constant company, even though he needed it. And Pietro was far too stubborn to ask them for entertainment, when they all came home in high spirits, even if they were sometimes a bit battered and bruised.

Of course, it was Steve that realised Pietro had stopped sleeping in his room. Awakening in the middle of the night after a long mission had sent them to bed in the tower, padding through to the kitchen for a glass of water, the moon coming through the glass wall picked up a shape, outlining it in silver on the sofa. Pausing, Steve frowned, realising what he was seeing was Pietro. Awake, judging by the shine on his eyes; head turned ever so slightly to watch Steve, hair looking very pale, the blanket around his slouched shoulders.  
"You okay, kid?" he murmured, moving over to the other, seeing him picked out more clearly now. The eyes looked away, down a little, and the shoulders shrugged.  
Sinking to so rest next to the younger man, Steve frowned in concern. He didn't much like the emptiess going on there.

"What're you doing in the dark, Pietro?" he whispered.  
"Couldn't sleep." came the low murmur, accent strong because he was clearly exhausted. "Nightmares."  
"Could Wanda-"  
"No." Pietro cut him off. "She needs to rest. Cannot keep babying me." and the blanket shifted a little tighter. Pity swelled in the Captain's chest.  
"Why don't you watch a show? You won't wake anyone up."  
"I don't know how." Pietro admitted. The darkness made it easier to own up to things. "I cannot figure how to make any of this technology work."

The pity got stronger. Steve had struggled, too, when he first came out of the ice. If he'd managed it, this kid definitely could.  
"It's not too hard." he promised, reaching out in the gloom, finding the remote on the table. "Top left button makes it slide up." he put the remote in Pietro's hand, feeling how cold the long fingers were. "C'mon." Pietro pressed the button. The TV appeared, and flickered on, with the sound automatically low because of the time of day. It was showing some old film, but after Steve's time. "There we go. There's loads of channels. Just flick through until you find something you want." looking at the remote, a little embarrassed he hadn't figured it out, Pietro began to scroll. In the flickering light now, Steve saw just how exhausted he really looked.

"Did you take your painkillers?" Steve couldn't figure why he felt so worried about Pietro. He was an adult, undoubtedly. Really, they were baout the same age, though Steve's maturity was different, with when he'd been iced. The speedster nodded slightly. "Are they helping?"  
"No." the murmur was quiet. "I do not think they are strong enough. They wear off too quickly. She said I had to take one every, ah, two hours? At most? But they go within fourty minutes." a slightly bitter laugh, a little wheezy. "The nightmares are worse when it hurts." on the last word, Pietro's voice cracked.

Without even thinking, Steve reached out, putting an arm around Pietro's shoulder. He wasn't surprised when the other looked up, startled. Moving closer, Steve eased Pietro down until the other was resting against his warm chest. Adjusting the blanket so it was fully wrapped around Pietro, arms draped like a protective cage. He felt so _tiny_ compared to Steve, even though he was almost six feet.  
"Is this okay?" the kid's claustrophobia was terrible, Steve'd figured that out pretty quick. But to his surprise, Pietro nodded a little. The TV burbled softly in the background, and the pale blue eyes stayed fixed on it, until they grew slowly heavier.

Internally, Steve wondered about his behaviour. There was just this overwhelming sense of protectiveness toward the kid. He'd seen Pietro give his life to protect Hawkeye and that boy. He'd carried the dead body that was now alive, breathing, resting up against him. Maybe that was why. Clint was much the same way; it felt like taking care of his little brother. Or his son. Reckless and foolish but brave. After half an hour, Steve was half dozing himself, but realised Pietro's breathing had evened out. Scooping the other's legs gently, making sure he was still wrapped in the blanket, the super soldier eased upright.

When Pietro awoke in the morning, he was back in his room, curled up on top of the quilt but under the blanket from the lounge. His eyes opened to face his little electronic alarm clock and the little jar of strong painkillers that sat on his bedside table. And much to his surprsie, it was 10am. Six hours sleep. That was the longest he'd rested since before the battle of Sokovia.


	2. Chapter 2

It became a regular thing. Pietro struggled to sleep in his own bed. He'd spend most of the day on the sofa, now able to watch the television or fiddling with the iPod that Tony had given him; wearing Sonic pyjamas (Tony hadn't explained why everyone laughed so hard at that, but he'd found a channel that showed cartoons and realised why. Now he thought it was funny too.) and trying to not go nuts from boredom. The strong painkillers tended to make him sleepy when he first took them, so he would curl up for fifteen minutes to half an hour at a time on the couch and sleep under that same blanket.

But when it was dark out, his mind went hyperspeed. So he would sit in the dark until Steve would come out and help him relax, help him feel safe and protected. Sometimes it wasn't enough. Sometimes Pietro would wake up to soft shushing noises and a hand stroking his hair as he'd twitched and muttered violently to some cruel nightmare. But there was nothing lecherous about it. It was hard, too, for him to accept the comfort, at first.

Steve had hoped, as he was more willing to accept the hugs and affection, that Pietro would calm down; let himself heal. But if anything, he was getting more antsy in the day. They knew he was eating and drinking enough, because the fridge was always kept well stocked. While he'd still been in a coma, when Wanda hadn't known he was still alive - hell, when none of them had - she'd been trying to cope. And that included telling them stories of funny things that had happened, as well as some sadder ones. They'd all been pretty quiet as she'd told them about their first use of their scepter-given abilities. How, when he was allowed to run properly, Pietro ended up passing out and skinning his arm badly - no idea just how badly he needed electrolytes and sugars in his system to cope with the speed.

So the day that Pietro was allowed free in the tower, a case of Lucozade appeared in the kitchen, and he was told to help himself to anything he wanted. The same for the various sugary and protein-rich snacks that appeared in cupboards and the fridge. It was a strange luxury, but Pietro was pretty entertained for that first day, just snacking on anything he wanted, wandering (carefully) about and resting on whatever surface was nearest when he got tired.

But the entertainment of the place was wearing off pretty quickly. And so by the time Steve started to find Pietro up in the middle of the night, he was feeling painfully lonely. The old sensations, from back when he'd fisrt been orphaned, were growing stronger again - only this time, he didn't have a little sister that needed him. There wasn't really any need for him to stay strong, for him to be the brave, cocky older brother. He figured she hadn't even noticed him becoming more and more withdrawn, despite desperately seeking company.

Weirdly enough, it was one of their younger agents who showed something interesting to them all. Kate Bishop - the one on the table to be replacing Clint, now he seemed to be planning on retiring from the group. She was almost as good as him, and pretty damned tough, dropping by the tower every so often. Clint was visiting, hence why she did; the older man sat talking quietly to Pietro, trying to get a good response from him while ruthlessly suppressing his worry. Because Kate had a secret weapon - a dog.

The golden retriever was happily wagging it's tail at her side when she arrived, calling out that she had coffee. Pietro perked up visibly - looking over. Not at the sound of coffee, but at the bark. Lucky came bounding over to see Clint, tail thudding into everything he passed.  
"Is he yours?" Pietro asked, the most comprehensive question he'd asked all day. Kate grinned slightly.  
"Lucky? Sorta. He's friendly, you can pet him."

Sliding off the couch, before anyone could stop him, Pietro knelt. The dog, detecting someone new, immediately went over for the fussing. Scratching along Lucky's back and then behind his ears, Pietro was basically hugging the animal, who was having the time of his life. It was such a complete change. That light had come back into his eyes, the one he'd had when they'd first met, rather than the dull sort of look he'd had while he'd been locked down in the tower. Clint shot Kate a pointed look, raising an eyebrow. Then he got up, patting Pietro on the shoulder.

"I'll be back in a bit, alright? Take it easy." Pietro nodded, distracted entirely by the dog who was now affectionately headbutting him. Passing Kate, Clint paused, murmuring in her ear; "Keep an eye on him. I need to go have a word with Steve." then headed out. Kate saw that she didn't really need to do much; instead, she just perched on the couch, watching as the young man fussed the very happy dog, a grin now clear on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, I've arranged a treat for you." Pietro was doing his usual thing; lounging on the sofa in his Sonic pyjamas, with a soft grey jacket over the top that Steve felt he recognised. It looked too broad for the speedster, but warm, at least. "You need to get dressed for it, though." that made him sit up almost dangerously fast, blue eyes suddenly fixating on the other.  
"Am I going out?" he asked, excitement clear. Steve grinned.  
"If you take it easy - yes. So go get dressed. _Take your time._ " he ordered. "I'm not in any rush."

Pietro had to work hard to restrain himself from bouncing around like a lightning bolt. But he took his time, not willing to lose the chance to leave the tower. Pulling on clothes that he'd been given, admittedly it was a very small wardrobe, but he was grateful for what had been bought for him. He had no money, no home, nothing but what he'd gone to the tower with in the first place. Everything else had been given him - these soft, loose cotton shirts that sat nicely over his bandages, and jeans made of expensive fabric that moved nicely. Yes, not _ideal_ for running in, but still very nice.

Dressed, he emerged, pulling back on the light hoodie. Wearing the adidas he found the most comfortable, too; seeing Steve sat on the sofa he'd vacated. Looking up, the other smiled at the speedster, getting to his feet. In his own casual clothes, the two looked completely... normal. Like average twenty-something men, although Pietro was only a couple of years younger than Steve, if you ignored the time he'd spent in the ice. Nobody would've known they were a supersoldier and full of more holes than swiss cheese, respectively.

"Where are we going?" he asked, easily keeping pace - Steve was clearly going slow, hands in his pockets, so Pietro could keep up. "Will I get to -"  
"Sorry, kid. No running. Not yet." Steve told him, patting gently on the narrow shoulder. "Soon, though. We gotta get those wounds of yours closed up, then we can get you back in shape. Nah. I have something good for you, though. You'll like it." he promised.  
Being unable to run sucked, but Pietro was almost trembling in excitement. Outside. In the _open._ Despite the glass, he still felt very enclosed in the Avengers Tower. The elevator journey was horrible; Steve let the other press against his side without needing to promise that he wouldn't say a word to anyone. The last thing he needed was Pietro having a panic attack.

When they went down to the street, Pietro was looking everywhere, moving his head just a creepy bit too fast. "Calm down." Steve said, a hint of amusement in his tone. "We just have to walk a bit. Figured you'd prefer that to a car. At any rate, tell me if you're getting panicky, alright? I'm gonna take you the quiet way." mouth feeling glued shut, Pietro nodded. Giving the younger a slight look of concern, Steve walked again. Oddly enough, nobody stared, nobody muttered. Even his weird hair didn't stand out that much here, surrounded by interesting people from all walks of life.

The crowds were making him antsy, so Steve led Pietro away from the main thoroughfare, down quieter streets, heading into the city.  
"Clint told me you got to see Lucky." Pietro nodded. "Y'know, I had a dog when I was a kid." Looking around at Steve, the speedster raised an eyebrow.  
"I am not twelve." he commented, quietly. "I had a dog, too, when I was young." at least he was talking. "It vanished in the shelling. We assumed..." he trailed off. Steve felt that bolt of pity again.  
"Well," he began to grin, as a certain building came into view. "There's plenty of stray dogs in New York that need a home." Steve gestured to the left and Pietro looked up.

The building wasn't recognisable to him, of course, but they had pounds in Sokovia. Eyes widening, the speedster paused; Steve rested a warm palm on his back, encouraging the other inside, over to the desk.  
"Hi." he said, smiling charmingly at the receptionist. "I rang up, we're here to pick out a dog?" he told her. She nodded, a little flustered, looking between the two of them. Pietro couldn't believe it. It was like he was suddenly a child again, getting to pick himself a dog, one that wasn't going to run away or die in a bombing... throat bobbing, he followed Steve's broad shoulders through the corridors and then into a long row of kennels. Barking and sniffing sounds reached him.

"Go on, kid." Steve said, giving Pietro a little push. "It's your choice. Go find someone, alright?"  
Walking down the aisle, Pietro looked at the dogs there; a mix of ages, most of them mixed breeds. Some of them were jumping excitedly, wagging their tails, others were sleeping or laying moroesly in the corner.  
"Most people want to see the puppies first." the lady who worked there said, smiling a little. Pietro had a blinding grin on his face, but he was totally unaware of it, crouching in front of one of the cages and putting a hand in to fuss an older terrier mix.

Then he leant back, looking up at them. "I want to see all of them. Before I chose." he said. The woman looked a touch surprised at the accent, but said nothing. They wandered down the corridor, Steve still smiling slightly. A few of them seemed pretty attached to Pietro, but he meant it when he said he wanted to see all of them. She showed them some of the puppies; some tiny ones, some slightly older. Pietro was absolutely enamoured.  
"This little lady, we didn't think she was going to make it." the worker said quietly, as they reached a pen with three twelve week old pups in it, playing rambunctiously. She gestured to the smallest. "Their mother died after giving birth and they were hand reared. We think they're some kinda shephard mix." she informed them. Pietro reached into the cage when she said he could; the pups tumbled over to sniff him.

"I like her." he said, softly. "Can I -"  
"Go ahead."  
Very carefully, Pietro lifted out the fluffy puppy. She definitely looked like she had some shephard in her mix, as well as something fluffier, maybe some kind of samoyed? Her fur was browns, golds and blacks. In his arms, the little puppy wriggled then sat up, putting her paws on his chest. There was a slight wince as the pressure was put on a bandage, but Pietro didn't complain, stroking her ears. His eyes went to Steve.  
"I think we have a winner." he said, looking at the lady, who nodded.  
"She's probably going to get pretty big and fast when she's older," she pointed out, "You'll need a lot of space for her."  
"Is not a problem." Pietro said, softly. "We have a lot of space."

Half an hour later, they were leaving the pound. The little puppy had a new collar and lead on, but Pietro was carrying her, insiting she wasn't too heavy for him. Steve had already gotten some of what they needed, the basics, at least; a bed, food and food bowls, which should have already been set up while they were out picking. The pup seemed quite content to snuggle up in Pietro's arms, head in the crook of his elbow.  
"You got a name?" Steve asked, feeling proud. The light had stayed on in Pietro's eyes.  
"Mishka." Pietro responded, without hesitation. "It means 'Bear Cub'." a grin crossed his lips. Steve mimicked it.  
"It suits her. Good choice." he patted Pietro's shoulder again, and this time, the man didn't wince away.


	4. Epilogue

"How's he doing?" Clint aproached Steve, who was leaning in a doorway, looking into the gym.  
"Good." there was a smile on the blonde's face. "I think he's getting back into good patterns."  
They both paused to look at Pietro, running on the treadmill steadily but not as a blue blur, sweat on his features. No blood stained his clothes; he didn't seem to be panting overmuch.

"You gonna send him out any time soon?"  
"We're thinking about it." Steve admitted. "He seems to have his strength back. Destroyed a row of targets in a few seconds. And Tony's been working on some armour that'll be as light as his shirts but will deflect the serious stuff, at least."  
"Good." Clint replied, softly. "Kid's a fuckin' miracle."  
"Don't we know it."

Turning off the machine, Pietro stepped down, taking a long drink of the electrolyte juice waiting for him. And as he made to walk out of the room, a big, fluffy dog stood up, walking at his side with her tail wagging softly.


End file.
